


Piece By Fragile Piece

by Sixthlight



Series: Old Guard Pern AU [4]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pern Fusion, Compulsory Heterosexuality, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Minor Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Minor Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Politics, Trauma, Worldbuilding, be the change you want to see in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixthlight/pseuds/Sixthlight
Summary: Nile had never visited Fort Weyr before.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Nile Freeman
Series: Old Guard Pern AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942555
Comments: 32
Kudos: 215





	Piece By Fragile Piece

Nile had never been to Fort Weyr before. As she and Linoth sprang out of _between_ and circled down to the great crater below, she could see dragons emerging into reality all around her, gold and bronze and brown, and the odd blue or green.

They were here for the great yearly meeting of all the Weyrleaders and some of the Lord Holders and Master Crafters, as they counted down the Turns towards the return of the Red Star. Andromache and S’bastien were there for Ista Weyr. Quỳnh had had to stay behind with Ngoth, who had eggs on the sands of the Hatching Ground. She had been annoyed about it, but they had all known it would be the case once Ngoth had risen; the date for this meeting was regular.

N’colo had been meant to come but had twisted his ankle two days ago in an unfortunate accident involving a young dragon, some excited children, and – Nile would never point this out but she had seen it – N’colo perhaps having been absorbed in his own thoughts rather than where he was placing his feet. He had been limping around the Weyr the very next day with a crutch and a scowl, oblivious to the warnings of Celeste, the Weyr Healer, that he needed to rest. He would have been at Fort with a crutch and a scowl except that when they had met to discuss this trip, Andromache had pointed out bluntly that he was in no mood for a meeting with all the other Weyrleaders. He had denied it ferociously until Y’suf had said, gently, “Beloved, my dearest heart, you yelled at me for three minutes this morning about standing on the wrong side of the room until Genoth told you to stop, and perhaps our efforts to persuade the other Weyrleaders to change their ways will go better if we do _not_ yell at them.”

N’colo had sighed and stared at the ceiling of the meeting room for a long while before saying “Harper diplomacy. Oh, very well, I will stay here like a disobedient weyrling,” and then S’bastien had thrown a piece of chalk at him and said “Stop _sulking_ , N’colo,” and Ada the Headwoman had walked in on all of them throwing pieces of chalk at each other as if they were _all_ weyrlings and laughed so hard she’d cried at their chagrin. (Nile’s ear still hurt; N’colo’s aim was _very_ good.)

Nile herself was there because once Linoth laid her own eggs she would be stuck at Ista as Quỳnh was, or at least dependent on the goodwill of other riders to travel, and she had – as she had confessed to Andromache and Quỳnh – a great desire to see some of the riders she had known at Benden, in her new role as a junior Weyrwoman at Ista. The rank had settled more easily on her the longer she had held it, and easier still after Linoth had risen.

Y’suf had come too. He had some plots unhatched, Nile knew, to do with the Harper Hall and his convictions about how much better it was at Ista for riders than at other Weyrs. Strictly speaking his presence wasn’t necessary – he wasn’t a wingleader as some of the other brown riders at Ista were, being still too new a rider – but Tunith _had_ flown Linoth, to everybody’s surprise, even Y’suf’s and Nile’s, which in the way the Weyrs worked meant that the other Weyrs would not be surprised at his presence. They had been asked to limit numbers, though, as Fort could only host so many at once, and more riders than there was room for wished to visit friends.

Nile had only been to Igen Weyr since she had Impressed and that for a short time, so she did not recognise most of the dragons present by sight, but she had spotted the contingent from Benden Weyr. She wondered how they were going to react. There had been polite messages of congratulation, when she had Impressed Linoth, but no visits.

_Over there, love_ , she told Linoth, mentally directing her to where Scythiath and Marsilieth already were.

_I know,_ Linoth said. _There are so many other dragons here! I will enjoy meeting them._ Linoth was very sociable as dragons went, apparently, which surprised Nile because weren’t dragons supposed to be very like their riders? And she didn’t think of herself as that sociable. But it made sense for Tunith, because of Y’suf. Anyway, Linoth and Tunith were the worst gossips at Ista Weyr, or at least Andromache said that Scythiath thought so. Quỳnh said Ngoth said Scythiath only thought that because she had been the worst gossip before they pair of them had hatched, and that they got it from her.

_Will you talk about your riders?_ Nile asked her, as she took off her helmet and goggles.

_Probably sometimes,_ Linoth said. She had landed next to Tunith. _But mostly we will speak of each other. Scythiath and Marsilieth are going to introduce us. This will be fun._

_Good,_ Nile said fondly, skimming down the harness and leaning fondly against her dragon. Linoth had got _so_ big, so fast; in Nile’s head she was still a hatchling. _I hope it will be fun for me too._

Andromache and S’bastien were already making their way briskly across the bowl of the Weyr; they must know where they were meant to be. Y’suf had vanished as well, Nile suspected to find other Harpers. She was suddenly alone at Fort, and uncertain for a moment of what to do, when someone shrieked “Nile!” and she just had time to register pounding footsteps before she was picked up and swung around. Linoth’s neck swung towards them, eyes whirling in alarm; so did all the other Ista dragons.

“Give a girl some warning,” Nile said, hugging her assailant back. “Jordan! I forgot you were going to be here!”

“You _forgot_?” Jordan said, laughing at her. “I came here five Turns ago!”

“Exactly, it’s been so long,” Nile said, kissing her old friend on the cheek. She stepped back to get a good look at her. Jordan was a little rounder in the face, a little dustier – everybody was dusty right now, with dragons landing all over – but she looked well.

“It’s so good to see you,” Nile went on, warmly. She and Jordan had been weyrmates at Benden, in the way that girls and women who worked at the Weyr could be, that nobody properly recognised or called it so aloud. Or girls and women at other Weyrs. At Ista it was different. Then Jordan had gone to Fort when a Search had gone out for a queen egg, and never come back. They had been friends first and more than anything else, but Nile had still missed her.

“And you,” Jordan said. “So this is Linoth?” She squinted. “Is she in egg?”

“Yes,” Nile said. “This is my big trip, before we’re both stuck at Ista while she broods over them. Isn’t that right, Linoth love?”

_I won’t be brooding,_ said Linoth. _I’ll be guarding. And you can still go on trips, with someone else; there are half a dozen dragons I don’t mind you going with._

_“_ She’s trying to tell me I’ll be able to sneak away,” Nile laughed, turning back to Jordan. “Where’s – Sareth, isn’t that right?”

“Oh, she’s asleep in our weyr. Too much fuss for her,” Jordan said. “They’ve put some tables out in the Hatching Grounds, since there aren’t any eggs on them now, for everybody visiting to sit and talk. The Weyrleader is giving us all the days off, if we don’t have to help with the guests, since there’s so much going on. Want to come and talk about everything we’ve missed?”

“I’d love to,” Nile said. “Show me the way.”

There was supposed to be a big feast this evening, with Harpers from the Harper Hall and dancing and all of that, but it was mid-morning, so Nile and Jordan fetched cups of klah and berry pies from the big carafes and trays left out. Nile reflected that this was what she was supposed to be doing anyway; Y’suf had said she should start getting to know all the other queen riders, and Andromache and Quỳnh had said that they were going to take Y’suf’s lead on this, as their Harper. That was why it was a shame N’colo wasn’t here. The great meeting only had room for one Weyrleader from Ista, so if he had been able to come, S’bastien could have been doing the same with other bronze riders. All the brown wingleaders from Ista were reliable, but Y’suf was very clear that he did not think any of them had minds for politics.

“They’re brown riders,” Quỳnh had said. “They don’t need to.”

Y’suf had raised an eyebrow. “Then you need better riders, or you need them to learn.”

Andromache had sighed very deeply. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“So,” Jordan said, as they sat down. “How long ago did Linoth rise?”

“Only two tendays,” Nile said. “A little later than we were all expecting.”

“And was it…” Jordan was playing with the pastry on her pie. “You know. How was it?”

“Like nothing else,” Nile said, the memory catching up on her for a second; the memory of _being_ Linoth, drinking blood rather than eating flesh, soaring higher than she’d ever gone with Nile on her back. Of being half there and half in her own weyr, with Andromache, who had tasted like over-brewed klah and like freedom, who Nile had chosen to invite in. Of the sweet way Andromache had smiled at her when she’d slowly come back to her own self, a private, wondrous look she wouldn’t have thought to see on the confident Weyrwoman’s face. Of the way Quỳnh had gravely inspected the marks Nile had left on Andromache’s neck, that evening, and then winked at her and said “Good job”, and kissed Nile on the forehead while she was laughing and blushing at the same time. Of the way Andromache had grinned at that and said “Oh, yes.”

Of the very strange feeling when her eyes had met Y’suf’s, after they’d all slunk out of their own weyrs, and she’d realised that they had both been _there_ , with Linoth and Tunith, except not there with each other. The way N’colo and he had been joined at the hip, and N’colo’s quiet smile had been smugger than any bronze rider whose dragon had _not_ been successful had a right to be. She’d gone over and hugged Y’suf, both of them really, spilling over with feeling and relief and happiness at how it had gone, and Y’suf had given her a ferocious hug back, saying “Well done, us!” and N’colo had laughed and she had been happy, she had been happy, she had been so happy. She had never expected to be happy after a mating flight, really, even after all the promises everybody had made. She had just expected to get through it, for it to be over, and maybe not so bad after all. She couldn’t believe she got to be happy.

_We all did very well_ , said Linoth, smugly. _And I am going to lay a lovely clutch of eggs. Just you wait and see._

“Are you…” Jordan’s voice broke into her reverie. “Are you smiling?”

“What can I say?” Nile buried it in her mug of klah. “It was good. It’s supposed to be good.”

Jordan laughed, a little bitterly. “Right; it is.”

Nile remembered, abruptly, like the shocking cold of _between_ , that it would not have been like that for Jordan, unless she had found a bronze rider she liked very much. Maybe not even then. It would have been the way it always was, all the riders surrounding her, waiting to see whose dragon won out. Whether she liked them or not, whether she wanted them or not.

“Sareth must have risen once or twice by now,” she said, trying to be gentle. “Was it…all right, for you?”

Jordan shrugged. “You know, it’s mostly the dragons, and they were – Sareth was fine. We’re just along for the ride, once they get in the air.” Her jaw tensed, and Nile realised she had not kept her face straight. “Stop looking at me like that. Just because you went to Ista and found some rider you liked, and were lucky –”

“I was,” Nile said, putting her hand over Jordan’s, “but not the way you’re thinking. They don’t, uh, the bronze and brown riders weren’t…I wasn’t by myself, but it wasn’t any of them. Actually they’re all quite nice, but I don’t want any of them and I don’t think any of them want me. So we just didn’t. That’s all. It still worked out fine for our dragons.”

Jordan was making a face now somewhere between scepticism and horror, but she had turned her hand upward, to clasp Nile’s. “That sounds like – what green riders do, when it doesn’t matter and they’re just having fun.”

“I don’t see why green riders should have more fun than we do,” Nile said. “Are we Weyrwomen, or not?”

“They _are_ all crazy at Ista, then,” Jordan said. “Everybody says that.” She pulled her hand away; Nile let her go. “So you don’t even – you don’t have a weyrmate? Or I suppose since you didn’t bed him on the mating flight, he didn’t want you.”

“Oh, no, he didn’t,” Nile said, biting back a smile, “he has a weyrmate of his own, that wasn’t going to – but he’s a very good friend. My closest friend, since I got to Ista. You heard about the Harper, who Impressed by accident?”

“A brown rider, I heard.”

“That’s right,” Nile acknowledged. “But he was a journeyman ready to try for his Mastery, a lot older than everybody else except me, so we made friends, and I think maybe that’s why his dragon caught Linoth. We just didn’t want each other like that.”

“But that doesn’t make sense at _all_.” Jordan was weaving her fingers together and then unweaving them.

“It does to us.” Nile looked at Jordan’s hands, not still although the rest of her was, perfectly. “And…how are you? Did you like the riders on your flights? I hope you did.”

“Oh.” Jordan shrugged. “It’s not like you talk to them very much. There’s one or two I…but they don’t want us to get too attached to anybody, at Fort. It’s better for the Weyr, you know, if all the bronze riders have a chance.”

“Jordan,” Nile said, not knowing how to possibly say everything she was thinking, or not in a way that Jordan would understand, or accept as sympathy.

“We’re so lucky, aren’t we, to be queen riders,” Jordan went on, ignoring that she’d said anything. “Both of us! Who would have imagined that, five Turns ago. We thought we were too old then.” Her eyes softened. “I get Sareth. That makes it all be all right, in the end.”

“I know that feeling,” Nile agreed, basking in the ever-present warmth of her dragon; with her until she died.

“I hope the other queen riders at your Weyr are nice,” Jordan said. “They can be a bit – some of the Fort ones – they get a bit possessive, you know? About the bronze riders they like best. Even though we’re not supposed to – ugh, seven queens in one Weyr, it’s too many.”

“No, uh, Andromache and Quỳnh aren’t like that. I can introduce you to Andromache if you like. Quỳnh had to stay behind; Ngoth has a clutch on the sands. I’d love to meet more of the Fort queen riders, too.”

“Maybe…maybe later.” Jordan took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I have to…there’s some things I have to see to. I’ll see you later.” She was gone before Nile could say anything else, her klah cooling in its mug, her pie barely touched. Nile stared after her, feeling sick.

*

She put her face in her hands and counted to ten, finished her mug of klah, and then got up and went to put all Y’suf’s advice to use, about getting to know people and making them like you, and understanding what they wanted. It was the sort of thing that nobody bothered to teach you before you were a queen rider, and suddenly you needed afterwards. Andromache really wasn’t very good at it because she just didn’t care about people like that; S’bastien was very good. N’colo was somewhere in between, because he was so direct by nature. Quỳnh was as good as S’bastien but only when she was in the mood for it. Y’suf was better than any of them, but he was a Harper first and always would be, in a way.

Nile was, she thought, getting better. She managed to find three of the other junior weyrwomen at Fort and one of the ones from High Reaches who had come along with her Weyrleaders, and spent several hours being given all sorts of tips about how to manage a Weyr and its riders. They clearly thought the junior Weyrwoman from Ista would need them. Nile accepted them politely, because it told her things she needed to know about what they thought, and took every opportunity to emphasize how well-run things were at Ista, how little trouble they had with their Holders – less and less now Y’suf was allowed to make visits to Holds, and take some of the other younger riders along with him.

She ignored everything they told her about managing bronze riders, because half of it was nonsense and half of it didn’t make sense when the bronze riders she had to ‘manage’ were N’colo and S’bastien and the two young ones who’d impressed at the same time as her, T’fik and J’get. They were both very polite boys and made Nile feel old even though she had only seven Turns on them, and the thought that she might have been expected to take one of them to bed if their dragons had flown Linoth was just ridiculous.

“It’s ridiculous,” one of them sighed at one point, “how much the Weyrwoman and the Headwoman manage between them. If I ever end up senior at any Weyr I’m going to make my juniors do much more than we get to do.”

“That’s because there’s seven of us,” pointed out another.

“Get some of the bronze riders to do some of it,” Nile suggested. “We have two Weyrleaders, really; they just take turns at managing things. It makes everything much easier. Especially when one of them twists his ankle two days before this meeting!”

“The Weyrleaders just manage the fighting wings,” said the first queen rider who’d spoken. “That’s a enough work.”

“Then why do they get half the say in how the Weyr is run, and more than that most of the time?” Nile asked. “The Lord Holders are always asking to speak to the Weyrleaders, when they should be speaking to the Weyrwomen too, especially when Thread isn’t even falling.”

They all giggled nervously, and then somebody changed the topic. Nile knew that they knew she was at Ista, and that they’d rationalize it away, but they also knew she was weyr-bred at Benden and as well-versed as any of them in a junior Weyrwoman’s duties. So maybe they would think on it.

She came back to the Hatching Grounds that evening to the sound of Y’suf’s voice – so he had managed to speak with the Harpers, and be allowed to perform, still. They could be quite strict about that, but he’d had his journeyman’s badge before he Impressed, after all. It was a good song, better than when Nile had heard him rehearse it at Ista. Someone had helped him polish up some of the melody.

“Hey there,” Andromache said, swinging an arm over her shoulder. “I hope you had a more fun day than we did.”

“Caught up with an old friend,” Nile said. “Got to know some of the queen riders here. I think it was useful. Although my friend…isn’t very happy at Fort, I don’t think.” She kissed Andromache on the cheek, fondly. “I know all-day meetings don’t suit you.”

“They don’t suit dragonriders, period,” Andromache grumbled.

“At least we’re all used to sitting.”

“Hah.” Andromache guided her to a seat. “Shhh, for a little – I want to hear the rest of the song.”

Nile felt the tiniest bit self-conscious, sitting there with their arms around each other, but nobody said anything. She’d asked Andromache and Quỳnh once why she’d never heard any rumours about the two of them; two queen riders together would be the kind of gossip that would fly around all the Weyrs, surely.

“I have no idea,” Quỳnh had said. “People don’t see things they don’t want to see.”

“I saw them kissing in the middle of the bowl at Telgar once,” S’bastien had said. “And nobody said anything.”

“I think the dragons all know,” N’colo had said, unexpectedly. “But nobody asks them.”

_We don’t care that much_ , said Linoth, to Nile. _You should do what makes you happy. We do. I like Scythiath and Ngoth well enough._

She hadn’t managed to find Jordan again, and now even the great Hatching Grounds were crowded with people – lots of them had travelled up from Fort Hold, oldest and first and largest, and the Harper Hall nearby. Y’suf came over to them once his song was done.

“That went well, I think,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “Even though it wasn’t very subtle.”

“Riders don’t understand subtlety,” said Andromache, who possessed all the personal subtlety of a queen dragon. “So use less, if anything.”

“The melody changed,” Nile said.

“I had a little help today,” Y’suf acknowledged. “And some interesting conversations.”

“I saw you talking to the Masterharper.”

“Mmm.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

“Debrief back home,” Andromache said, her fingers tapping against Nile’s waist.

“Weyrwoman,” Y’suf said, with the briefest of rider’s salutes. “Did the Benden Weyrleaders have anything to say about Nile?”

Nile turned to look at Andromache; she hadn’t wanted to ask, in case the answer was _no_.

“I told them you were doing well,” Andromache said, “and they said they were pleased that they’d sent two girls out, in recent years, and had them both Impress queens. But it wasn’t anything more. If you want to visit your mother, you’ll have to tell them that directly. I’m…not sure they’d remember.”

“I will,” said Nile, forcing herself to remember she was a Weyrwoman if a junior one, and could do that. Her brother had brought their mother to visit her at Ista once last year, but she hadn’t made the journey the other way herself; it was more complicated, for queen riders. “Oh – speaking of there being two of us.” Beyond Y’suf, Nile could see Jordan approaching.

“Jordan!” She waved her over. “Jordan, this is Andromache, Weyrwoman at Ista, and brown rider Y’suf. His Tunith flew Linoth. This is Jordan, she’s a junior Weyrwoman at Fort.”

“The most junior,” Jordan said, like she was reminded of that a lot. “Seven of us, now.” She sat, uneasily. “It’s an honour to meet you, Weyrwoman. There’s a lot of stories about Ista.”

“Don’t stand on ceremony,” Andromache said, pouring her a glass of wine. “We’re all Weyrwomen here. And Y’suf.”

“You were singing, just now,” Jordan said to him. “Do you still perform very much?”

“Now and then.” Y’suf gave her his best charming but unthreatening smile. Nile recognised it, from going on visits with him to Holds. He had a whole arsenal of smiles. She liked all of them, because they were all true, in their own ways.

“We could have ten Harpers at Fort if we wanted,” Jordan said, “but the Weyrleaders only invite them up sometimes.”

“We like having our very own rider Harper at Ista,” Andromache said. “Keeps the place lively.”

“ _And_ your dragon flew a queen.” Jordan examined Y’suf, like she didn’t see that possibility in him. “That’s a lot, for one man.”

“We really are running you ragged,” Andromache laughed at Y’suf, and toasted him.

“There’d be a real fuss here, if a brown dragon managed to outfly all our bronzes. But I guess you only have two.”

“Four,” Nile said. “And Ngoth has eggs on the sands, and another queen among them. We’ll be up to strength well before the Red Star arrives.”

“Of course,” Jordan said. She hadn’t drunk any of her wine, and had one hand tucked under her legs, and her ankles crossed. Nile saw her looking at her and Andromache, their arms around each other.

“Something wrong?” Andromache asked her. Nile shook her head, because she didn’t think that would work with Jordan, but – this was who her weyrmate was.

“The bronze riders at Fort would get really upset,” Jordan said. “If they thought the queen riders were…friendlier with each other, than them.”

“That’s why they can all go between for all I care,” Andromache said, but cheerfully.

“You don’t mean that,” Nile said. “Think of all the meetings you’d have to go to, while the rest of the Weyrs figured out how to replace them.”

“A fair point.” Andromache switched her attention back to Jordan. “It must be hard with seven queens at one Weyr. Too many.”

“You were negotiating about that today, weren’t you?” Y’suf said.

“Yes. I said we should ask the junior queens where they wanted to go. We’re still short one at Ista, you know.”

Jordan licked her lips, taking a sip of her wine at last, but before she could say anything, the Fort Weyrleader appeared. He was a short man and had the manner of an aggrieved watchwher. Nile had never met him and disliked him at once.

“So you’re the Harper turned rider,” he said to Y’suf, ignoring Andromache altogether. “You should probably be spending more time learning how to do your duty as a dragonrider and less time writing songs.”

“Hmmm,” said Y’suf, not in the slightest cowed. He caught Nile’s eye, as if to say: and _this_ is what they think leadership is, here?

“S’ven,” Andromache said, even less impressed. “If I have a problem with one of my riders, I’ll let them know about it. I have no problem with Y’suf, right now, which means neither do you.”

“If the Ista Weyrleader says so,” S’ven countered. “Where is he, right now?”

“I think he’s talking to your Weyrlingmaster,” Andromache said.

“ _Why_? _”_ The Fort Weyrleader was openly baffled by this.

“He takes a great interest in that sort of thing.”

“His oldest son will be a candidate, when Ngoth’s clutch hatches,” Nile put in.

This didn’t seem to clear things up for S’ven. “It’s not healthy for riders to take that much of an interest in any children they happen to father.”

Nile saw Jordan’s fingers clench on her glass, and wondered at it.

“And I’m sure you don’t,” Andromache said; Nile saw Y’suf rub at his beard to hide a grim smile. “But never mind my second-favourite Weyrleader.”

“Seco –”

“We agreed today that there would have to be some transfers, with the number of queen riders at different Weyrs,” she continued as if S’ven hadn’t spoken. “Your most junior Weyrwoman has said she might consider coming to Ista.”

“ _Really?”_ S’ven turned to Jordan, who he hadn’t even looked at until now. N’colo or S’bastien would have greeted Nile first, in the same situation.

Jordan met Nile’s eyes. Nile gave her the tiniest of nods. She took a deep breath, and sat up straight, like a queen rider should. “Yes.”

“You know we’re short,” Andromache said. “And I know Mirala would be in favour of it.”

S’ven made an impatient noise. Mirala was the Fort Weyrwoman. “Does this mean you’ll go back to your Weyr and stop being difficult?”

“I’m never difficult, S’ven,” said Andromache, who enjoyed being difficult on purpose.

“You know what?” S’ven said. “Fine. Fine, take her and her…whatever her dragon’s name is. But we _will_ revisit the matter of your bronze riders.”

“Ista Weyr’s business is Ista Weyr’s business.” Andromache met his gaze coolly. That was one of the maxims a traditionalist Weyrleader could not argue with; Nile had to admire it.

S’ven almost snarled as he stomped off.

“If they’d transferred him to Ista five Turns ago,” Andromache mused, “which they threatened me with, I _would_ have ended up stabbing him.”

“Do you _mean_ that?” Jordan said, sounding more impressed than horrified.

“Ask N’colo sometime,” Y’suf said, his eyes twinkling.

“The only thing is,” Jordan said, rolling her glass between her hands. “The only thing is. If there was…someone who worked in the Weyr here…would you have space for them, as well?”

“We have more dragons every Turn, with the Red Star getting closer. More dragons, more riders, more need for help. So yes, of course.”

“She helps our dragon healer,” Jordan went on, “she’s one of his best assistants, I think he’ll be sorry to lose her but you wouldn’t regret it –”

“I said yes.”

“And there’s a child.” Jordan tried to say it offhandedly, but she didn’t quite manage it. Nile wanted to give her a hug, and also perhaps to stab somebody; the trouble was she didn’t know who.

“Yours?” Andromache asked.

“No, hers,” Jordan said. “But I –”

“You don’t have to explain it.”

“It’s good for children to be with people who care for them,” Y’suf said, glancing after the Fort Weyrleader. “Which is why perhaps we should not weep for any that S’ven has fathered here.”

“He won’t notice this one is gone, I promise you,” Jordan said, and smiled tightly. “Thank you. _Thank_ you.” She rose. “Should I – should I go and speak with the Ista Weyrleader? Or do you need to?”

“Absolutely,” Andromache said. “You know what he looks like? Good. Go and tell him you’re transferring. Tell him about the child, as long as you don’t mind hearing about all of his three.”

“Your Weyr sounds _very_ strange,” Jordan said fervently. “Thank you.” She wove away through the crowd.

“You know,” Y’suf said, “we can’t just solve this problem by bringing _everybody_ to Ista.”

“Yes, but this one is Nile’s friend,” Andromache said, giving Nile a small squeeze.

“You were listening,” Nile said. “Thank you.” She looked at Y’suf. “If I recall, you were the one whose grand plan it was to do – everything else but that. So keep working on it.”

“Step by step,” Y’suf said, his mouth quirking, and they toasted each other in Fort’s Hatching Grounds, as all the lords and masters and weyrleaders of Pern whirled around them.


End file.
